Erratically Emotional
by thegreatdusknoir
Summary: PMD:E post-game AU. Humanized. Actaeonshipping, sort of. Something about Grovyle and Dusknoir not sleeping for a really long time, then passing out and accidentally cuddling. Or something. Rated T for swearing.


**Title: **Erratically Emotional (an obligatory WHOOO JUNE'S HERE SUMMER YEAH fic)

**Warnings:** Cursing. Kinda gay. Probably OOC. That's about it.

**Notes:** Takes place at some point after special episode 5. They live in Treasure Town, I guess. This whole thing is unexplained and a spur-of-the-moment type of thing; I might go into more detail about my headcanons for their post-game life, but today is not that day. Take this all with a grain of salt; I'm exhausted and this is probably incoherent. (see end of fic for additional comments)

* * *

It wasn't until they were both tripping over their own feet and delusional with weariness that Grovyle had the audacity to state, "We need to sleep."

Dusknoir, who was perhaps even too tired to come up with any original snark, simply made a vague noise of noncommittal agreement. He tugged at his collar and picked at his gloves as he walked, trying to focus on _something_ to keep his eyes open so as to not fall and break his glasses. Or nose. Or anything, really. It'd be considered a success if he didn't pass out midstride, in all honesty.

A glance to his left proved that Grovyle seemed to share a similar sentiment.

They'd been awake for exactly forty-six hours straight. The mission they'd taken on was a time-consuming one, but it had an _excellent_ payoff. They just had to deliver a pair of X-Ray Specs to some goober on the other side of the region, and assuming that they didn't completely lose their asses along the way, they'd leave with their wallets significantly heavier than they had been before. That alone was enough to entice Dusknoir out of bed before noon, and the prospect of traveling to a new place pleased Grovyle greatly. It was really a win-win situation.

Upon discovering the mission, Grovyle had pleasantly explained that they'd be able to get there within twelve hours or so – then they'd rest up and return back to Treasure Town the following evening. Maybe they'd even celebrate with drinks at Spinda's Café! It seemed like a nice way to spend the weekend – it really did.

That was yesterday, though – or rather, twenty-odd hours ago. Grovyle's calculations had been slightly skewed by the fact that much of the journey was _not_ through mystery dungeons (as annoying as they were, they were certainly the fastest means of transportation around), but instead on foot – and half of it was uphill, at that. It'd taken them just over twice as long to get there and deliver the item, and in all actuality, they _should_ have slept right then and there, but the sun was just rising and Dusknoir weakly suggested that maybe it would be faster downhill? They loaded up on caffeine at that local town and began their trip home. The money in their pockets made them a bit cockier than before – that was where they got into trouble, really. They honestly thought they could go without the sleep.

"We'll stop at an inn when we get tired," Dusknoir had offered. "Around six or so."

They didn't stop at an inn because there _wasn't_ an inn. They'd effectively and accidentally gone around the town they planned to sleep at, and by the time they realized it, it was too late to turn back. They were halfway between there and Treasure Town.

It was all so convoluted and dumb that it made Dusknoir's head spin. But maybe that was just the lack of sleep.

To his side, Grovyle stifled his fifth yawn in the past five minutes. Dusknoir was too tired to yawn in response.

"This is stupid," Grovyle said. He sort of slurred a bit, so it sounded more like a snake – "thiss isss sssssstupid."

Dusknoir loudly groaned, then stopped, veering off of the path to grab onto one of the spindly trees. He clutched it dearly with on hand, and used his other to point at Grovyle. "A good idea," he began, "Would be to sleep. Right now. Just...on the ground. Before the sun rises."

It was, after all, four in the morning. The oh-so-tyrannical sun was due to rise within two hours or so.

Grovyle brought a hand up to his chin and tapped it, giving off the appearance that he was thinking deeply into the matter – as if Dusknoir had asked him about quantum physics instead of a request to sleep. If his eyes weren't burning so badly, he might have thought it to be a touch humorous.

"An excellent proposition," Grovyle eventually said, now reaching up to rub at his eyes. "I haven't slept on the ground in…A long time."

"It hasn't been necessary," Dusknoir reminded him. "We'll crash, and in the morning we'll walk the last few miles home. Good idea?"

"_Very_ good idea," Grovyle agreed again. He began fiddling with his hair tie as Dusknoir led him off of the path. They walked through the young trees – they couldn't have been more than six feet tall – until the saplings thinned out into a meadow-like area. The soft and tall grass was almost as appealing as a bed, and unceremoniously, Dusknoir dropped first to his knees, then onto his back. Grovyle sat down, still dealing with his hair.

"Just sleep with your stupid pony-tail in," Dusknoir chided, curling over onto his side to watch him. The grass – albeit a bit damp – was surprisingly warm. He patted down the area around him so he could see and not, well, _drown_ in it.

"It's uncomfortable as all get-out," Grovyle mumbled. "I've almost got it." He closed his eyes, concentrating on the task at hand – or he was just falling asleep. It could be either one.

Just as Dusknoir was tempted to ask him if he needed any help, he managed, and his hair fell down and around his face and shoulders.

"Get a haircut," Dusknoir said. He almost had forgotten – he sat back up and pulled his glasses off, then put them in his wonderbag. With his luck, they'd have broken before the sun came up. He fell back down as Grovyle did – back down, facing the stars.

"Eh," was Grovyle's only reply.

"Eh," Dusknoir replied. Oh, the stars – they were smudgy yellowish blots at this point, and he could only make out the brightest of them through the clouds. They were pretty nonetheless, even if totally terrifying. They were just one of the many things he was working on getting used to since being ultimately forced to live in a world with a proper flow of time. It wasn't_ too_ bad. At least he was alive.

After a long moment of subdued and sleepy silence, Grovyle said quietly, as if on the verge of sleep, "Goodnight, Dusknoir."

"Goodnight."

Dusknoir breathed in and closed his eyes.

* * *

Dusknoir awoke _far_ too soon – his eyes still burned, and though he didn't necessarily feel as though he was _yanked_ from sleep, he still felt as though it had been stolen from him in some way. Sleep had invited him into its house for a nice chit-chat and some tea, but ended up gradually hushing him out upon realizing that he wasn't in fact the friend sleep had thought he was. His sleep had nervously said, "Oh, well, it's getting kind of late…" while nervously tapping its watch, even though they had barely talked at all since he crossed the threshold of its home. He had complied, as he didn't want to make sleep feel uncomfortable, but he was still bemused as to why sleep was acting so oddly in the first place.

…So to speak.

The sun had risen, but only slightly – it was still a soft pastel hue on the horizon, hidden by trees and grass and foliage in general. This wasn't too odd. He figured he'd wake up at some point between then and noon. What _was_ odd was the green obscuring most of his vision – for a few short moments, he thought it was just some grass, but he quickly came to his senses and realized that grass didn't have the same texture or smell as…this.

God, it was right near his nose – the neutral, if springish odor wasn't as overwhelming as it was simply noticeable. It was almost pleasant, in fact!

The last shreds of hazy unconsciousness faded away and he realized almost at once what was in his face: Hair. Lots and lots of hair.

_Green_ hair, at that.

He froze – quite literally _froze_; he felt as though he couldn't move a muscle – as he came to the abrupt and sudden realization that not only was his (arguably _best_, not that he'd ever say that aloud) friend's hair in his face, but one of his arms was draped around his chest as well – and Grovyle's hand was grazing his own.

He didn't know whether to shriek or to slowly untangle himself from the other. The former would be oh-so-satisfying, but the latter would be reasonable and responsible.

He took a second to try and calm down his suddenly hyperactive and buzzing mind, but that only seemed to make things worse. The only thoughts on his mind were a series of sustained and _loud_ questions, featuring back-up noises such as shrill screams and a low-pitched gargling. Not really sure what that last one was supposed to mean, but it was there, and it probably wasn't going to stop until he got a good six or forty feet away from Grovyle.

The poor guy was still asleep.

He pulled his arm back from Grovyle's, and then used that to push his hair out of his face. Then, crisis almost averted, he sat up, fumbled around until he found his bag – a surprising distance away – and pushed his glasses onto his face. The world returned to a refreshing and crisp clarity, and for exactly 0.47 seconds, he was able to forget the previous awkwardness and breathe.

His mind soon switched back to panic-mode (0.47 seconds really isn't that long of a period of time, as it turns out), and so he stood up, brushed the grass from his pants, and walked back towards the path. He didn't stop until he was back to the one tree he held the night before, and again, he grabbed at it for safety.

"Okay," he told himself out loud, "Okay! All right. Yeah. Okay. This isn't terrible. You're okay, Dusknoir, you're fine!" He continued chanting a mantra of reassurance to himself under his breath, still desperately clinging to the tree. Was it even the same tree from last night? Well, from three hours ago? He didn't know. He didn't care. He was just trying to figure out how both of them had gotten from laying on their backs several feet apart to _cuddling_ in their sleep. What was it called? Spooning? God, the sound of it made him want to gag. He'd never had any interest in romance or physical contact (well, not of the friendly or intimate variety), and this was a rancid combination of both, almost – whoa, romance? How'd that thought get there?

He stood by the tree, calming himself down for a good five minutes. It wasn't traumatic – honestly, accidentally spooning a friend wasn't as bad as, say, sentencing said friend to death. Repeatedly. It was just surprising. He was still too tired to think straight, he decided. Maybe his mind was playing jokes on him.

He almost wondered if it was Grovyle who was playing a joke on him – he told his potential paranoia to stick it before it could grow, though. That would be the _worst_ outcome of any of this.

His mind still a flurry – but this time of curiosity instead of panic – he let go of the tree and turned around. Who had turned over first? He thought this – it was a stupid thing to wonder, but now he needed to know.

He trampled back to where Grovyle and their stuff were, and then looked at the area of pushed-down grass was. It looked like they had, somehow, met somewhere in the middle – though, he noted with a curse, he had moved slightly more. Dammit.

Pacing back and forth, Dusknoir put his hands behind his back, and with the small and shriveled shred of intellect he could still muster in this trying time, he came to a final and logical ultimatum: It was too early for this kind of shit.

He walked over, and using his foot, he prodded at Grovyle's back.

"Time to wake up," he said, keeping his voice steady. He'd deal with his thoughts later, perhaps after another eight or so hours of sleep.

Grovyle groaned, but sat up. He blearily rubbed at his eyes, his hair falling around his face and framing it. The sudden scent of it slapped Dusknoir in the nose, and he suppressed yet another curse. Great, now he had _that_ in mind.

"Already?" Grovyle yawned, and then pulled his hair back.

"It's seven. We can get back to the house by eight-thirty if we go now." He didn't need a clock – something about growing up with a time god had given him an innate sense of time. He was usually off by a few minutes, but it didn't matter in the long run. He'd just have to get a watch. Eventually.

Grovyle trusted his judgment, so he stood up, and they soon made their way back to the path and in the direction of Treasure Town. "I'm taking a shower first, if you don't mind," Grovyle said once they were walking. Dusknoir didn't argue. He had bigger things on his mind.

He'd have to tell him. Of course he would. At the very least, it was because he was involved – at the very most, it might be amusing. Even if embarrassing. Grovyle was the one holding his hand, though, so he was equally to blame. Him and his goddamn green hair. His soft, green h-

Dusknoir took this opportunity to openly smack his forehead with his palm. Grovyle looked over questioningly, but didn't ask.

Fuck.

* * *

By the time they got back to the house, Dusknoir was somewhere between wanting to ignore everything and wanting to sleep it off; regardless, he felt so emotionally queasy that he didn't know what to think. He assumed it was embarrassment. He didn't really like it.

Grovyle jumped into the shower the moment they got home; Dusknoir opted to go down to the bathhouse by the Hot Springs instead. He didn't want to hang around Grovyle all that much.

Nobody was there, so he bathed fairly quickly. It was warm, which was a bit irritating – he preferred cold water, always. It sort of reminded him of his life in the "future" – if you wanted hot water, you'd have had to go through the annoying process of lighting a fire and heating it. It was always easier to just use cold water, and so cold water was what he bathed with. It was a small habit that had tagged along into his new life. A small preference, one that nobody could really complain about because he wasn't sapping up any hot water they might otherwise use.

Those were the thoughts he focused on his shorter walk back to their base – the smallish cabin in the woods by the beach. It was small, but had seemed less so since Celebi had left. Temporal duties and all; she could only visit every few weekends. Clearly not this particular week, and was just over last time – it'd be a while until her next trip out.

He sort of missed her. Grovyle definitely missed her more than he, but Dusknoir still couldn't help but to feel a pang of loneliness at the fact that one of the two "friends" he had was mostly gone. She'd been kind to him, even if she was hesitant in the beginning.

Their door was, as always, unlocked – he pushed it open, using his other hand to pat at his still-damp hair, and walked in. The front door led to a living room of sorts, and from there the kitchen was visible. He could very clearly see Grovyle sitting at a counter, drinking at a mug of presumably water. There was no way he'd want to drink coffee, not when he could just…Go back to sleep.

"Good morning," he called. His hair was down as it dried. It looked the same color as algae. Dusknoir dimly wondered how he'd never noticed it before.

Dusknoir nodded, and breezed past him into their joint bedroom. It was just as small as the other rooms – two beds, two dressers, a bookshelf (Grovyle's), and a lamp were the only decorations. He dropped his bag of old clothes onto the floor, pulled off his gloves (he _ignored_ the marks on them, as he always did) and his glasses, and fell face-first down onto his bed.

He was out like a light.

When he did finally come to, it was only after hours of nerve-rackingly tedious dreams and foggy thoughts. His senses told him that it was around eight in the evening, and that he had slept for a pleasantly long time.

He'd just stay awake all night, then for most of the day, and his sleeping pattern would again be normal.

He rolled out of bed and, after putting on his glasses and gloves, debated whether or not he should have taken a shower earlier. He decided that it really didn't matter that much, as he'd take one tomorrow morning, anyway.

Surprisingly, Grovyle wasn't asleep in his bed. Dusknoir figured that he'd just woken up earlier than he had.

The whole incident earlier seemed almost laughable, now. Funny. Amusing. It still left an unsettling imprint on him – he felt tense and on edge – but he was sure it'd fade with time. As soon as he could forget the feel of Grovyle's hair, then he'd go back to normal. He was sure.

Feeling well-rested and confident, he left the bedroom and ambled into the kitchen. Grovyle was sitting at the smallish table, a mug of something in his hand. His gaze darted upwards to meet Dusknoir's, and again, he greeted him: "Good evening,"

"Good evening, yourself!" Dusknoir replied. He reached for a coffee mug himself, but when he went to the coffeepot, he noticed that it was almost empty. He poured the remnants of it into his mug – it was only filled about three-quarters up – and turned to Grovyle. "How long have you been awake?" He sipped at his plain and bitter-tasting drink.

"I didn't go to sleep earlier," Grovyle confessed.

"That was a dumb move," he snorted. "I feel so incredibly rested, now. And you..." He squinted at the apparent bags under Grovyle's drooping eyes, "…Look like a zombie."

"Zombies aren't real," Grovyle slammed half of his coffee in one go.

"There's one right in front of me." He set his cup down and raised his hands in mock terror.

"Oh, screw off," Grovyle said. "I've already decided. I'm going to bed around midnight, and then I'll sleep until morning. It's the best plan there is, and you know what? There's nothing you can say that'll put me in a bad mood."

Dusknoir smirked, and decided that now - now was a perfect time. "Nothing?" He asked.

Grovyle glanced at him – almost apprehensively at first, but he seemed to push away any worry in his mind – and confirmed, "Nothing." He sipped at what was presumably coffee.

"We cuddled last night," Dusknoir said, smiling widely in spite, "and you really need to stop using Celebi's leftover shampoo."

Grovyle began choking on his drink.

…Worth it.

* * *

**a/n:** hoooooooly shit. i'm getting there. I'm slowly making my way to legitimate shippy stuff. soon. sorry you have to put up with this pseudo-ship bullshit for the time being. just wait for it, my man. just wait for it.

feel free to review this hunk of junk. if you're just going to say how shitty it is, I agree – save the comment and pm me instead; we can discuss it in great detail if you'd like


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